


Laying Claim

by sarcasticsra



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5435810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three relationships, three different displays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laying Claim

**Author's Note:**

> I am a dork who forgot to post yesterday. Anyway, here's another entry for the POI Advent Calendar!

“John,” Harold says, in a tone John knows well and greatly enjoys hearing him use, the one that means Harold _wants_ him. John moves closer, leaning down, and Harold kisses him quickly—a little too quickly for his tastes. He kisses back, deepening it, until Harold pulls away. “Let’s take this to your apartment,” he says calmly, even as his eyes blaze.

John gives him a hungry look. “What’s wrong with right here? There’s the couch. Or the desk.”

“We’re going to your apartment, John,” Harold says, this time in a slightly different tone, superficially gentle, but it’s unmistakably an order.

John has to admit that tone does plenty of things for him too, and he smirks, leaning purposely against the desk. He stretches, also on purpose, and feels much as sees Harold’s eyes track over his body. “It’s not like it’d be the first time that you didn’t want to wait, Harold. I don’t mind.”

Harold moves in close, trailing a hand up his chest, gripping his jacket and gently tugging him down. “I’m well aware of that fact, Mr. Reese,” he says, directly into his ear, and the tone combined with his proximity means John is absolutely unable to prevent the shudder that runs through him. Harold certainly _is_ well aware of that fact, having fucked him slow and steady in this exact spot while he groaned and begged, shameless. “But if you would like me to fuck you tonight, it will be at your apartment. Otherwise…” He abruptly pulls back, calls Bear to him, and attaches his leash, heading for the exit without another word.

John tries not to think about how turned on he is as he follows him.

\---

Anthony knows he’s probably not the baseline for normal by any measure, but he can’t help but feel there’s something really fucking hot about the way sex gets his boss’s mind going. He’s buried in him to the hilt, deep enough that Anthony knows he’s going to feel it for at least the rest of the day, and he’s murmuring stray pieces of strategy in his ear and new ideas as they come to him.

“Of course,” he’s saying, “we’ve already discussed the power vacuum that will… emerge.” He shifts his hips and Anthony groans. Jesus Christ, he feels so fucking good right now.

“New blood,” he says, shifting back and making them both breathe harder. 

“Mmm, agreed.” He thrusts hard and Anthony’s eyes lid. “You are exquisite, you know that,” he adds, not a question—assured that if he says it, Anthony must know it.

“Definitely feel like it—fuck,” he gasps, and his boss smiles and thrusts again, just as hard.

Anthony groans and shifts into him, and then there’s a murmur in his ear. “Reminds me,” he says, “have I told you my plans for those Russian upstarts in Ilsa’s territory? It’s a little creative, I think you’ll have fun with it.”

He groans again. This may kill him, but he’s okay with that.

\---

“ _Fuck!_ ” Sameen shouts, orgasm rolling through her, making her legs weak and her face tingle in the aftermath. She struggles to catch her breath as Root grins saucily and pulls back from between her legs, dropping a quick kiss one of the newly formed welts on her inner thigh.

“Such pretty little marks you let me leave,” she says. “Am I the only one who ever gets to see them?”

Sameen arches an eyebrow at her, having caught her breath but still feeling fucking _excellent_. “Figured you would prefer it that way, but I can start sharing your work if you want.”

Root idly presses on one of the marks, not hard, but enough to send a quick jolt of delicious pain through her, and she exhales a loud breath. “I do appreciate a little healthy admiration,” she says, clearly pretending to consider the idea, “but in this case, I think this might be the one masterpiece I would rather keep to myself.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You’re so fucking obvious, Root,” she says, and Root just smirks wickedly at her in response, pulling out her lighter.

Sameen licks her lips. _Obvious_ isn’t always a bad thing, she reasons.


End file.
